Prisoner of Peace - Part 2
by MooncatX
Summary: Okay I erased all the previous Prisoner of Peace Part 2 posts because updating on this site is horrid and editing is worse. I'm loading up a combined document of chapters Part 2 1-10 just to get a proper set of words out instead of html spew. So sorry to those who favorited and followed the original posting, soooooo SORRY! I hope you find this updated and cleaner copy.


Prisoner of Peace Part 2 - Let's Go There

by Mooncatx

Summary

So, I'm going there. I'm calling it. This IS the next part of Prisoner of Peace the main story line. Really, I'm horrible at splitting my attention. So, things may go really dark and smutty now. If that's not your thing, enjoy the first two parts of the Prisoner series which are relatively clean. So yeah, this part starts off with a bit of dark smut between Amelie = Widowmaker / Jack Morrison - Soldier 76 And yeah, there is going to be non-con elements. This is my jumping point, people. Think about it. If this is not your thing, turn back now.

Notes

So I made some changes. Please check out the Summary. This is now the Prisoner of Peace part 2 storyline. I gave you all a chance to comment and no one did, so let's see how it all goes. If this turns into Amelie does Overwatch, it's all your own fault for not stopping me when you had the chance. - I totally went there! =^,,^=

How Far Will You Go?

Chapter Summary

This continues Prisoner of Peace (part 1) so consider it either chapter 1 of Part 2 or chapter 8 of the whole bit. I may rename this part but I just can't think of a better name for it. - this is where it gets weird. Okay? So the first 2 parts are fairly straight with the canon-verse. This is where I jump the shark :) Jack Morrison, aka Soldier 76 is not happy with Amelie LaCroix. He flat out thinks she's bad news and is using her sexuality to seduce Overwatch idiots (Jesse McCree for one) into her web of intrigue and Talon badness. Yes he does have a stick up his... ahem. But he also has a hard on type hard on for Amelie. You savvy? Where do you think this is headed? Yeah... got it in one. I'm a bad kitty. =^,,^= sweet dreams are made of these. It only gets worse and more smutty from here. Flee! Flee while you still can! Unless you like this kind of stuff. Then by all means, dig in.

Prisoner of Peace

Prisoner of Peace (part 2 chapter 1)

Chapter 1: **How Far Will You Go?**

The rest of lunch passed uneventfully. Tracer did send doleful, kicked puppy looks towards Amelie. Meanwhile, the former Talon sniper finished eating with a singular sense of satisfaction. Angela chidded her for taunting the time traveling chipmunk. But, really?! The foollish, annoying girl made it just too easy.

McCree watched Amelie nibble delicately at her fruit. Every so often she'd dip a bite into the remains of frosting on the desert plate, licking it off with the lavender toned pink tip of her tongue. Small, licks, while the hedonistic pleasure of it rippled through her delightfully. Tracer's anguish only made it better. It didn't hurt that she could see heat build in the cowboy's eyes, and that Angela sometimes forgot to chew while watching her devour each bite as if it were a sensual ritual.

In truth, Amelie rarely had time to simply savor what she ate. Talon bases were not known for haute cuisine, and when she had time on her own, Widowmaker didn't often dally over food in commercial eating establishments. Aside from her distinctive coloration, she hated being hit on by the few ignorant, or just drunk individuals who saw a pretty blue girl as another mark to notch on the bedpost. At least in the Talon bases, the rank and file knew better than to press their luck, as her lovers tended to end up on the wrong side of a fatal attraction.

There was amusement in the older German giant eyes. He watched McCree watching Amelie, and thought to himself… Ah! So that is the way of it. He was not altogether won over by the Talon wench. His automatic urge to kill the assassin on sight was blunted now by the knowledge that Talon had done things to Amelie LaCroix, that mitigated for him, her murder of Gerard LaCroix. None of Overwatch's hands were so clean that they could condemn her for murder out of hand, not if she were to truly put Talon aside. But that aside, she **_had_** murdered his friend and brother warrior. So he and Brigitte would keep an eye on Amelie LaCroix. Support her in becoming Overwatch if that was her goal. But neither he or his goddaughter would hesitate to put her down, if she proved false.

"Sugar cube, the way you eat is downright dangerous." McCree commented, as the woman finished her food.

"Why is that?" Brigitte asked innocently, face as open as a spring wildflower, but devil's mischief in her wide aqua eyes.

McCree coughed roughly into his hand as Reinhardt scowled at him, daring him to say something inappropriate in front of his goddaughter.

"A discussion for another time. We need to go to our Debrief Meeting now." Angela cut in, rising from the table.

They all left together, and Amelie noted that the eyes following them out, took into account that she was part of this group of respected Overwatch veterens, and not unchampioned. Good. It was useful to not be seen as someone easily hunted. Even predators such as wolves and lions had their support. She was not alone here. She would be careful not to be alone till she'd established a reputation that would keep other predators at bay. At least, that was her plan, which as many plans go, run asunder on bureaucratic reefs. Amelie wasn't surprised to be separated from the others for the debrief. As Widowmaker, she **_had_** been on the opposing team during the conflict. What did surprise her was Jack Morrison, waiting for her in the debrief room. Abruptly, her feeling of contentment vanished.

"Jack." her acknowledgement was neutral.

"LaCroix." Morrison was going for business casual, it seemed.

He gestured her to sit, and too the chair opposite of her across the simple table that was the only other furniture in the room. It only lacked the one way mirror wall to be an interrogation room. It was a windowless, interior room and she and Jack were alone in it.

She'd not been alone with Jack Morrison ever before. Always there had been Gerard, or some crowd of people at whatever social event they were both attending. It was strangely intimate, and dangerous for them both. He was looking at her now, the weight of his gaze was damning, containing a smouldering heat that had not been there earlier. What had happened in only a few hours that he should look at her so… Oh… Now she remembered that Angela had said he was one of the persons who had seen her and Jesse McCree together only a little while ago. Was **_this_** about **_that_**?

Amelie was never one to mince with words, and she had a begetting curiosity that was bound to get her into trouble, one way or another. "Doctor Ziegler informed me that you saw the security footage of the practice range."

Jack stilled for a moment, his face held an expression that she wasn't able to read, yet it sent chills through her. He was upset with her. No… more than that, something had hardened him against her in a way that set off her danger sense. The urge to flee raced through her, but it was too late. She could only go forward now, not back.

"You will do anything, won't you." Jack's voice had a whiskey rasp, and she wondered if he'd had a shot of liquid courage before cutting her from the herd, trapping her alone with him.

"You'll have to be more specific, Commander Morrison. If you mean will I obey orders, I don't really have a problem with that. Talon saw to it that I play well with others." Amelie kept her voice low, nonaggressive. Somehow though, her attempt at a calm seemed only to fan the cold fury in Morrison's icy blue eyes.

"Here I thought you were a one trick pony. Talon's pet sniper. But they taught you a whole repertoire of tricks, didn't they?" He leaned over the table, intimidation poured off him and Amelie pulled back in confusion.

"Talon trained me in many levels of intelligence gathering, as well as assassination." Amelie offered the information warily, sensing some kind of trap.

"How far will you go, Amelie LaCroix? To seal your place with Overwatch? To prove yourself to me that you will do as you are told, without question?" Jack demanded, voice harsh almost accusatory?

"How far are you willing to push me?" Amelie tilted her head, trying to get the gist of what Jack was aiming for.

"Right now you're dressed like a whore, LaCroix." Morrison pushed himself from the table, standing up, "Can you make good on the promise your looks are making?"

"What are you asking me to do, Jack?" Amelie rose to her feet, resisting the urge to cross her arms in front of hersef defensively.

"Strip."

An arched brow was the only question Amelie allowed herself to make. It seemed Overwatch was not that far from Talon practices after all. She only had the one garment. She shrugged out of it in less time than it took to draw a breath. Jack, seemed surprised. He shouldn't have been. She was a professional. In Talon, if someone who ranked you told you to strip, you stripped. She stood there in nothing but her skin, black boots and blue black hair loose, black velvet and lace puddled behind the stiletto like heels.

"Go to the wall. Hands high, above your head, and wide apart." Morrison ordered

His roughly growled directives were easy enough to follow. Amelie went to one of the bare walls and leaned forwards, hands flat against the wall. She didn't even wait for him to order her to spread her legs. The former Talon operative looked at the wall now before her eyes, the rough grain of it not disguised by the thin coat of paint. She focused only on the paint and the wall, willing herself not to move, not to flinch, as Jack's masculine, work hardened hands laid hot as fever against her cooler skin. They were large hands, able to cover her breasts with their heat. Strong fingers plucked at the soft nubs that tipped her small, high, perfect breasts. Plucked, tormented and teased till the tender flesh grew stiff, jutting out in stiff peaks. His other hand dropped to the v between her cool, smooth thighs.

Amelie couldn't stop a small gasp from escaping, as Morrison's fingers claimed her most private place. Not so private after all. He touched her. And she let him. She closed her eyes, and turned her head, laying her cool blue cheek against the colder, harder surface.

Jack hadn't meant for it to go so far. He had expected her to tell him to take a flying leap. He expected her to protest. He expected her to fight back. But she didn't, and he couldn't help touching her. Exploring the supple smoothness of her skin, offered up like a sacrifice. All he could think of now was how outraged he'd been to see Gerard's wife acting like a cat in heat, writhing under Jesse McCree. This woman trembling under his rough handling was little more than a whore, giving access to her body in order to infiltrate and gain access to the more naive and wide eye'd Overwatch members. He wanted to punish her for dishonoring Gerard's memory. He wanted to kiss her till it hurt.

Roughly, he pressed himself to her back, letting her feel the hard muscle of him against the softness of her naked buttocks. The roundness of her bare ass pressed lewdly against the hard erection he'd come into the room with. He watched her face over her shoulder, head turned and eyes closed, biting her lower lip as if to keep from crying. Such a good little actress. You could almost feel her humiliation in the harshness of her breath. He reached out to stroke the long, loose strands of her dark hair away from her face.

"Guide me in." His voice was rough, with anger, with lust he couldn't tell which held more sway over him.

Her hands left the wall, leaving only the pressure of her front body against the wall to keep her upright, while behind her she blindly sought out Jack's hard flesh, releasing it from the confines of his trousers. Her fingers were clever as they were cool, long and slender like the rest of her body. The body that she arched, lifting her derriere to offer him access to her from behind. Slowly, but without hesitation, she guided the tip of him into the valley between her butt cheeks, moving him to the soft delicate folds of her sex. She was still moist from her time with Jesse, so she was nearly ready for his sudden, brutal thrust. Jack threw away any preliminaries and took her with an aggressive, dominating lunge. Not giving her even a moment to adjust to the size of him. He buried himself in her hard and fast. Amelie couldn't help the whimper that was forced out of her.

"Jack!"

Her breathing his name unleashed a violent spill of emotions. He began to fuck her raw and hard enough to crush her against the wall. The room echoed with the thuds of force as his thrusts came fast and furious. It wasn't sex. It was punishment. She wept. It was involuntary, she couldn't control the tears forced from her with his relentless, furious fucking.

He wanted her to suffer. So she showed him her pain, her tears, let him hear the small, muffled screams, subdued and quieted only enough to keep outsiders from coming to investigate. Jack's violence culminated in an explosion of his seed, deep inside of her. He stilled against her, listening to her hiccuping sobs. His hands reached up, thumbs wiping the tears away until her sobbing stopped. Almost gently he slid out of her. The warm trickle of his seed spilled out, coating the inner walls of her thighs. Taking his fingers, Jack wiped up a smear of his seed, and brought it up to her mouth. Slowly she kissed his fingers, licking them clean. Golden eyes glistening, she looked to his weathered, calmer face.

Jack swore under his breath. He'd never taken a woman with such violence before. He'd never come with such shockingly intense release. He was already hard again, like a teenager first discovering sex. This time he took her to the table, Wordless he lifted her so her hips were supported on the table's edge, her arms rested on his shoulders, hands clasped behind his neck. His hands looked incongruous against the soft smoothness of her shadow blue thighs. She watched him, as he stroked his hands over her soft, naked flesh. His fingers stroked over her nether lips, spreading her open to his gaze, a slow seepage of his seed was a lewd reminder of his violent use of her only moments ago. He buried the fingers of one hand inside her, watching her eyes widen at the invasion. His other hand slid up to grasp her neck, thumb along the line of her jaw, he tilted her head up.

"Tell me to stop." His voice was nearly a subaudible growl.

"Stop, Jack." she whispered, voice rough with tears and rasping from her earlier smothered screams, "... please, stop!"

He watched her face. Her trembling lower lip. Leaning down he caught her tremble with the the still white perfection of his strong teeth. A little wordless keen escaped her as he bit down almost gently. His lower hand began to fuck her slowly, his thumb rolling her now swollen clit. He built up her tension till she was bow string tight.

"Guide me in." His curt order came in a whisper this time, his breath hot on her lips, before he took them with his.

A deep invasion of a kiss that left her no room for air as she reached with one hand to cup his now fully erect flesh. He growled in her mouth as her hand ran the length of his cock from beneath, before firmly grasping his base and pull him forward, his solid maleness to her moist tightness. She jerked a little as his hard cock pressed into her once again. She was still sore from how violently he had taken her only moments ago.

His kiss released her, and she let out a pained moan as Jack bucked his hips to lodge firm and deep into her again. She felt tight, stretched beyond her limit by the size of him. Slowly he moved in and out of her. Long, deep, slow strokes. He watched her weep as he fucked her. He watched her weep just for him. He could feel the tremble of her coming release, and increased the force and speed, the power of his motions ramming the table into the floor in a steady jarring set of strikes. Her angle was perfect, and he buried himself into her, right to the hilt. Her gasping scream was like a signal. Rolling his hips, he took her in great, long strokes, almost pulling out completely, only to go balls deep the next.

"Jaaaaaack…" his name was a wail on her lips, as shuddering she came around him, convulsing in waves, milking him with her tight core. Sobbing she came for him, mouth open, eyes staring into his.

Jack stayed inside her, using his strength to lift her and turn so he was braced, hips on the table. He waited for her shudders to calm. He pulled himself fully on the table, Amelie astride, still impaled.

"Move for me." Jack ordered.

Amelie bit her lip, and rocked, gently at first, but a sudden stinging slap on her bare buttocks caused her to significantly pick up the pace. She huffed, breath dragged into lungs one moment, driven out the next as Jack's hardness sank into her. So very hard and long, the girth of him splitting her apart. She could feel her own climax coming again. So could Jack. His hands cupped her bottom, and he thrust up hard to meet her on every downward motion. The heavy weight of his body surged up, his super soldier enhancements coming to the fore. Amelie yelped as Jack rolled her on to her back on the table top and drove into her deeper and harder. All she could do was take it, his flesh violating hers in a primal act that left her howling, no longer able to think about being quiet as Jack hammered her forcefully in short rapid thrusts. She couldn't stop the sound caroling out of her throat, despair, triumph, a loss of self and a fulfillment of the same. Jack's name on her lips she came, shaking, crying. Jack's mouth on her throat, her cheeks, capturing her mouth and her wails. She continued to whimper, everything falling away as Jack rode her into oblivion.

... to be continued...

Prisoner of Peace Part 2 Chapter 2: Let Loose Your Pain

Chapter Summary

After Commander Jack Morrison has his brutal way with Amelie LaCroix, the after math. Angela has a theory about Amelie's kill switch. This is what would be chapter 9 if we do continue this as part of Prisoner of Peace

 **Prisoner of Peace (part 2)**

 **chapter 2: Let Loose Your Pain**

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

"...could you have been thinking!?" Angela's voice sounded far away, muffled, as if underwater. The familiar cadence of her melodic Swiss accent was strangely comforting. Well, probably not so comforting to whomever she was berating. Amelie could feel the residual tingle of a healing pack. She was going through a lot of them for not seeing actual combat in days.

"It just happened." Jack Morrison's voice was gravel and whiskey, and all kinds of rough.

Just the sound of it triggered memories. Sweaty memories and the taste of his seed salty on her lips. Licking those same lips, Amelie found them a bit parched, her whole mouth feeling dry.

"Water." she managed. Speech beginning to come back to her.

She was on an exam table. Angela stood at the foot, Jack Morrison just beyond her.

There was a familiar ache between her legs. The healing pack had stripped away the soreness, what was left was a kind of aching **_need_**.

"Kill switch?" she asked grimacing. Angela came to give her what appeared to be a sippie cup. Cradling the cup with both hands, Amelie let the cool, electrolyte rich liquid moisten her mouth, then swallowed slowly, letting it sooth her sore throat. "Ahh… I needed that."

She closed her eyes for a moment, resting her cheek against the cup, enjoying the smooth chill feel of it against her cheek.

"Yes," Angela's voice had a curious acidness to it, "You managed to trip another trigger. I now have a handful of instances with which to form a hypothesis. The first time you triggered was after you offered yourself to McCree. THe second time, from both McCree's report, and my own observations of your security footage, was after your actual sexual encounter in the the biotic gun practice range. Jesse shot you with a healing ammo load afterward."

"Mmm.. " Amelie smiled, eyes still closed, savoring the reminder, "My **_pick me up_**. McCree is a thoughtful lover."

There was a moment of silence from Angela, She looked at the dark haired woman on the exam table. Amelie had the languid, half awake semblance of a cat drowsing in a sunbeam. Utterly relaxed, She was all but purring.

"And now?" long, dark eyelashes opened lazily. Amelie's gaze lingered on the doctor's face, seeming to focus on Angela's mouth as if fascinated. But moving on after a brief moment to look at the grim features of Jack Morrison. "Jack fucked me into next week, and I nearly died again?"

"... yes." Doctor Zieger confirmed, giving Commander Morrison a hard look.

"My kill switch is sex? That will certainly put the kiss of death on my physical social interactions."

"This is no laughing matter, Amelie!" Angela's voice was unamused, "Sex, or maybe it's just the conscious act of giving your… cooperation, to person or persons who are not part of Talon. Working with others in a capacity not sanctioned by Talon."

"Can you fix it?" Amelie's voice was sleepy. Angela wasn't sure if the woman were truly awake after all. But the hands around the cup had tensed, the knuckles were a paler shade of blue, nearly white as the former assassin waited for Angela's prognosis.

"I think so. If your acquiescence is the trigger, then we will need to overwhelm it. This is actually similar to disrupting a simple, psychosomatic response. Like breaking a hypnotic command. Whoever conditioned you probably reinforced a trance suggestion state with a regimen of drug therapy. We'll work on it. If we can continuously induce your trigger in a controlled setting, making you aware of it, we can over time wear out you automated response with your conscious rejection of the given command."

"So… I need to sleep around?" Amelie laughed "That is like the plot of a dozen bad porn holovids!"

"It could just be sex. Or perhaps other significant acts of cooperation." Angela surmised aloud, "Not just simple acts like making coffee for a friend, but designated actions like… "

"Killing on command? Or in my case, sex or assassination?" Amelie concluded for the doctor. "Yes, I can see that. My primary function is to kill on command. For me the act sexual love and killing are very closely wed."

"I don't want to be… indelicate." Angela's voice was medical professional calm, but her face was once more flushed with her embarrassment, "But will you confirm for me that your… encounter, with Jack Morrison was… consensual?"

Angela could vividly remember her intense state of shock when she answered Jack's urgent med call. She'd only been a few doors away for her own debrief when her communicator all but shook out of her purse. She'd raced over to a windowless room she was unfamiliar with, just in time to watch Jack stuffing himself back into his pants. Amelie was naked except for her boots, laid out on the table, unconscious, the signs of recent sexual activity nearly neon sign obvious. Angela immediately treated the passed out assassin with another healing pack. Angela had begun to stuff her pockets with them since Amelie had become part of her daily life.

"Mmm?" Amelie frowned, "Jack? He just wanted me to demonstrate that I can follow orders. It was a little intense, but I think I completed the objective."

"The objective?!" Angela exclaimed. From what she had witnessed, the objective had been to have Amelie's brains fucked clean out of her head by Commander Morrison.

"The objective was to allow Commander Morrison to administer… physical discipline and corporal punishment in accordance with corrective conditioning." Amelie's delivery was dryly factual, but her hand slid to the juncture between her thighs, protectively cupping her sex. She hummed a little, turning her head to look away before adding, "Yes. Consensual."

Jack had taken the moment to draw closer to the exam table, and Amelie. He's face was unreadable.

"I… hurt you." His comment was not an apology, but a statement of fact.

"You wanted to hurt me Jack." Amelie gave him a half smile, tilting her head slightly, "And you did it… well."

Angela froze. She wasn't sure what to make of what happened between Commander Morrison and Amelie, but she had a queasy feeling in her tummy that it was anything but simple, anything but sane. She should not be here listening to the details. She couldn't make herself move away.

"I don't fake anything Jake. Every tear, every scream, everything, I gave you was real. It was a gift Jack. From me to you." Amelie reached out her hand to touch his cheek. "Gerard was someone we both loved. You needed… to let loose your pain. We both did."

To be continued.

Prisoner of Peace Part 2: Chapter 3 Thresholds

Chapter Summary

More Aftermath, Angela decides on her next step to treat Amelie. More Sombra and Reaper.

 **Prisoner of Peace Part 2**

 **chapter 3**

 **Amélie LaCroix / Widowmaker**

Amélie could feel the disapproval radiate off of Angela like heat. She didn't understand about the _need_ for pain and violence. Not the way Amélie knew it. Not the way Jack was learning his own dark needs. Morrison had gotten a taste, which would whet his appetite for more. For a hunger such as this, there was no true saition, only momentary satisfaction, before the craving clawed at you again. Something in her took savage delight in the knowledge, even as she grieved for her one time friend. Her body all but hummed with happiness. She hadn't felt so… sexually gratified in years. Not since Moira.

 _Dieu._ She was pathetic. Wanting O'Deorain, even now? After all the mad doctor had done to her. Something that had slumbered since Moira had Amélie in her grasp was waking in the darkness of her soul. _Because_ of what Moira had done to her. No one could hurt her like Moira could, no one could make her love it more. But Jack… had a certain brutally raw charm. For a beginner, his instincts had been spot on. He'd savaged her with a natural talent that could not be learned. She'd need him again. Soon.

Amélie looked up into the grim soldier's gunmetal eyes that hadn't stopped their predator's stare at her for even a moment. She could feel him thinking about it. Her, at his mercy… and having none. Amélie felt her mouth go dry, and another part of her slick with growing need. She hoped he had access to a lot of healing packs. She was going to need them one way or the other.

 **Angela Ziegler / Mercy**

Angela watched Amélie and Jack. She knew there was something… _**wrong.**_ There was a look in the Talon sniper's eyes. She'd seen it before, in addicts, when confronted with their drug of choice. And Jack, his face was like stone, but there was a sense of almost palpable darkness she couldn't understand. Angela wasn't going to let these two be alone together again, not on her life!

"Kill Switch!" Angela interjected, "Keep in mind that we are still in dangerous territory. Let us not do anything that could end up with Mrs LaCroix dead, shall we?"

Angela's sharp comment caught Jack's attention. Her not so subtle reminder that Amelie was his dead friends wife, which would remind him how she'd murdered Gerard. It was a bit dirty pool, but the Swiss medic had to snip this… whatever this was, in the bud. From Amélie expression, Angela expected to hear her hiss in annoyance. But instead the French woman smiled thinly, and asked, "Did you not say we should induce my switch in order to cure it?"

"First we should determine the parameters of what will or will not trigger your kill switch." Angela's voice was smooth and professional, "We must test, beginning with low stimuli, and work up, determine the least amount of action to trigger you into a controlled environment. If possible, I'd like to see if we can accomplish a cure without you constantly being… "

For a moment Angela's words failed her… but not so Amélie.

 **Amélie LaCroix / Widowmaker**

" _ **Baisée**_? Or should I say, **Fucked**?" Amélie's smile grew warmer as Angela went pink. It was worth it, just to see her angel so flustered. She couldn't help but to push it just a bit farther.

"I don't mind, _mon ange_ , Jesse, or Jack could do me right here. Or both together? Just us, here. With you watching." her voice dropped to a low, suggestive purr, dripping decadance, "I'd like that. You looking into my eyes as I die a little death."

A strange gurgle escaped Angela's lips, and Jack Morrison reached over and roughly grasped Amélie by the shoulders, his grip painfully tight.

"Stop it!" His growl was deep as a feral beast.

Amélie let out a little sound. It wasn't protest.

"... Jack…" His name on her lips was whisper soft, and cut like the kiss of a blade.

He released her, as suddenly and violently as he'd grabbed her. As if he'd been burned.

"We are both broken Jack. But our jagged edges grind together nicely. _Assembler les pièces, non?"_

 **Angela Ziegler / Mercy**

" _NEIN!"_ Angela almost exploded. She had watched, as Amélie's amorous attention had gone from her to Jack in less than the space of a heart beat. There was a dark heat that flared between them that was deeply disturbing.

"No one is fitting together right now!" the Overwatch Chief Medical Officer snapped, in full authority mode, "We will start tests tomorrow morning. Beginning with LOW levels of stimulation and orders. We'll establish thresholds before creating a therapy regime. Am I clear?!

She glared at them both, her ire high.

Both Amélie and Jack meekly nodded. They would humor the good doctor. For now.

 **Olivia Colomar/Sombra**

Sombra was conflicted. She and Reaper were enroute to the Overwatch HQ, and she had spent her time doing what she did best, hacking security. And she'd hit another payload, this time a security feed from multiple camera angles for an interrogation slash debrief room. This wasn't even under an officer only seal. She had a feeling that wasn't going to last any longer than it took for old man Morrison to remember to cover his ass. His very nice, tight, muscular ass. Which she could see in all it's glory as he fucked Widowmaker raw. She winced a bit to see Amelie take it so… rough. La Araña had a taste for the hard stuff.

The latina hacker was no innocent. You didn't get to her level of code breaking without getting exposed to the worst humanity had to offer. But… she'd just never seen someone she regularly hung out with in RL getting pounded the way Widowmaker was getting it. LaCroix was obviously following orders, but she was also crying, and screaming, and Sombra was sure her former team-mate was taking damage. Damn… this was changing her view of Overwatch sooooo much.

It wasn't quite rape. La Araña was _letting_ her Commander do these things to her. The hard, brutal fucking that was not being faked for the cameras. It was very different than what Sombra had witnessed the Talon Sniper doing with McCree. Sombra would normally not hesitate to share captured sex video with friends and strangers. If you did it where it could be filmed, your bad. But… There was something deeply personal about _this_ that hadn't clicked for Sombra in the other feed. She wasn't sure she could share this with Reaper. He was funny about his old friend turned nemesis, Jack Morrison. Funny _loco_ not funny ha ha.

She widened the view holo, sound only in her internal jacks, and peeked at another replay. She just wasn't sure she could or should wank to this, and she'd wanked to some pretty weird stuff. It was hot, but Sombra felt guilty watching it, for like, the sixth time? She was seeing her former team mate in a whole new way too. La Araña looked so pretty when she cried. The screams... made Sombra nervous. It almost felt like she was doing something bad, and she _never_ was bothered by doing bad things. NEVER. Now she was feeling paranoid, a little chill ran up her spine, as if someone was watching _her_. Feeling twitchy she looked over her shoulder.

Right into Reaper's mask. Sombra screamed! A high pitched squeal that made Reaper JUMP back in alarm!

"God! Sombra! What are you, 13?! What the hell are you watching now?!" Reaper felt his heart settle back in his chest. What was wrong with the hacker that she nearly gave him a heart attack, when he'd just come by for updates. "More of Widowmaker getting fucked by McCree? That's a real invasion of privacy you know. If she returns with us you're gonna have to sleep with one eye open. She's always been touchy about personal things."

Sombra blushed and turned her head away, staring down. An actual cheek glowing blush. Reaper froze a moment, shocked a second time in as many seconds. He didn't think the shameless hacker _could_ blush. Then, while she was distracted, he glided forward a step and peered at the still running holo vid.

"Audio." he demanded. Sombra complied, cheeks still burning.

"...stop Jack… please… stop!" Widowmaker's whisper was rough with her pain, and her eyes simply glistened with tears. Her breath was a ragged as her naked body quivered at Morrison's touch. Reaper watched Jake kiss her into silence, and continue to take her.

Reaper watched all the way to when Angela burst into the room, eyes wide with shock while Jack stuffed his spent cock back into his pants after having spent himself in the now limp and unconscious Amélie LaCroix.

"Replay from the start." His voice was dark and grim, and brooked no refusal.

Sombra played it from when Widowmaker came into the room where Jack waiting for her. She watched with Reyes as the Overwatch Commander, Jack Morrison, _ordered_ their former partner to strip. Watched her obey without hesitating. Watched everything that followed again.

"I didn't know this was an OverWatch vetting process." Sombra said, voice a bit faint, as Jack violently thrust into Widowmaker's completely vulnerable, naked body. She was sobbing openly as he violated her. It was harsh… yet… Neither of them could tear their eyes away. It was while the older, but magnificently muscled man was driving hard and relentlessly into a keening, climaxing Amélie that Sombra finally decided she could wank to this. Just, on special occasions.

To be continued

Reaper

Chapter Summary

Reaper [this is a short piece, but I thought it deserved it's stand alone post]

 **Prisoner of Peace Part 2:**

 **Chapter 4**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 **Gabriel Reyes - Reaper**

Reaper steepled his gloved fingers and thought. The security feed Sombra had was damning all around. La Croix was unmistakably offering herself to Overwatch in no uncertain terms. Hell, she was offering them things he hadn't even thought were on the table. He was deeply disturbed by what had happened between his once partner and Jack Morrison. Gabriel Reyes wasn't blind. He knew Talon allowed it's people to trade sex for favors. He'd never seen it done with the cold brutality the Overwatch commander had shown. Jack had taken what he wanted from Widowmaker as she wept. And she let him. She let him do things to her Reaper had never thought to ask. He'd misjudged both his former friend and his traitor team mate in many ways. He stared at the Talon file on Amelie LaCroix, on Gerard's wife.

Gerard his friend, who had been murdered by his wife, Amelie LaCroix, the Widowmaker. Before Talon, he'd never really known her. When Talon had taken her, he''d been the one to help Gerard keep it together. He'd never known the Amelie LaCroix who existed before Talon mentally adjusted her, before they'd re-made her genetics. Before they'd destroyed the former Amelie to make the new.

When he first was assigned to work with her, he'd glossed over her file. Gerard had been someone he liked enough to kill for. Rialto was proof of that. Ungrateful bastard hadn't appreciated it in the least afterwards. But they were friends, and then Gerard was gone, murdered by the very wife he'd been frantic to find and rescue from Talon. Reye's had mourned with the rest of Overwatch at the passing of one of their own. He'd grieved, wanting blood for blood. Then… By the time he found out who the killer was, he was Talon himself and on a quest to wipe out the remains of Overwatch. His own private vendetta. Gerard was just a kill he wouldn't have to make himself, and he'd been… grateful.

He'd eventually gone back and studied the details in her files. When he'd gotten his Talon Council status, he'd gotten all the redacted materials that gave the real story behind the making of Widowmaker. Gabriel Reyes was no one's hero anymore, not even an anti-hero. He was an A-List _VILLAIN_ through and through. He'd damn near lost his lunch reading her details. It wasn't pretty. Even if he'd still wanted to punish her for Gerard, there was nothing he could do to match what had already been done to her. He'd let it go. He couldn't have saved Gerard. He hadn't saved Amelie when she'd needed it. Done was done.

Now, in the field, she was his Talon ally. Or had been. He remembered meeting her for the first time in the chilled blue flesh. He knew why she was an Ice Queen that even Talon's rank and file feared. Cold in manner, cold to touch. Some ghost of respect to her dead husband had kept him as cold to her and their mutual disdain had suited them. They'd worked together smoothly, easily. They were both no longer the people they'd once been. Neither of them was passionate for anyone, or anything, other than the mission.

Or so he'd thought. From Sombra's holo feeds, it looked like LaCroix was actually very much passionate. _Very, very_ much. Shame she was wasting it on Overwatch. So it looked like a Field Interrogation after all. Just Widowmaker and the team she betrayed. Alone together… alone with him… close up and personal. With all that passion to explore.

To be continued.

Part 2 Chapter 5

Chapter Summary

Angela Ziegler is concerned, and pleads with Jack Morrison to leave Amelie LaCroix alone. Amelie suggests Angela use her power to end the situation.

 **Prisoner of Peace**

 **Part 2 Chapter 5**

 **Angela Ziegler - Mercy**

 **Jack Morrison - Soldier 76**

Angela pulled Jack into a separate room, leaving Amelie resting on the exam table.

"Jack, as Amelie's physician, as the doctor to _both_ of you, I'm asking you not to be alone with her." her voice was hushed, but intense, pleading, "I'm not prying into what is between you two. I _really_ don't want to know. However, as your doctor… your friend… Jack, please… don't."

"We're grown ups, Angela! What I do or don't do with Widowmaker is private. And frankly I'm surprised you would consider this part of your doctoring. What does it matter who she's having sex with? Kill Switch aside?" Jack's automatic argument was reflex.

Morrison had never liked being told what to do, and getting older he'd lost his eager to please attitude that had softened his inner, contrary nature in his younger years. His amiable nature was now harsher, his need to please overshadowed with his need to punish. He couldn't deny, despite his inner shock and displeasure at finding such darkness in his soul… His encounter with Widowmaker had _satisfied_ a hunger he hadn't known was in him. It wasn't just sex. That was part of it, to be sure, but something else… something deeper.

He'd taken pleasure in her tears. Each pain laced sob. The way she tightened around him while he hurt her, fucked her. His name in her mouth as she shook with the violence of his thrusts, his seed exploding deep inside her…

Morrison had already planned to stay away from Amelie… before Angela's plea. But now that the good doctor had vocalized it. Jack wasn't sure he could follow through. Hell, he was nearly hard again just from being in the same room together. Jagged edges… She was more dangerous than he'd thought. In more ways than he could have conceived.

"Kill switch aside… ?" Jack! That should be enough!" Angela wasn't sure if she believed what she was hearing, "And even if that were not the case… It matters to _me_ , Jack. Because I don't think she's capable of saying **no** to anyone she considers a superior. Now that she is with Overwatch, you are her superior officer. She's conditioned to OBEY, Jack. She'll do what you order her to do. _**Whatever**_ you order her to do. Do you understand? For all she's just confirmed what you did was consensual, this borders on rape. Hell, from the amount of healing my health pack had to do, I'm not really sure if what I patched up was rough sex, or something _**worse**_!"

"Angela!" Morrison's voice was shocked. He couldn't believe she'd just made _**that**_ accusation, "You know me! I wouldn't…"

"Haven't you? Already?" Angela's blue eyes were bright with unshed tears, "The Jack Morrison I knew would never screw someone just put under his command. Regardless of circumstances! And the circumstances here are so murky, I could cut them with a knife."

Angela put her hands to her head, trying to stop the pounding she felt as her blood pressure rise, "How could you, Jack? Why would you…?"

"I… " Morrison wasn't sure if Angela was more overcome from finding him having sex with LaCroix, or he was himself.

She was right. He would normally never have sex with anyone under his direct command. But in the beginning his mind had been so clouded with hostility towards Amelie, then seeing her with McCree. So wanton. So wildly sensual, uninhibited… It had sent him into a rage… a lust…

He peered into the other room, where Amelie, despite her sexually aggressive poise in company, when the French assassin thought she was alone, she seemed frail, and vulnerable. Easy to _harm_. Easy to _hurt_. Part of him wanted to be the strong shield between the delicate beauty and the chaotic, sharp edged world. Another, darker part of his soul wanted only to see how much harm she could endure… at his hands.

It was a confusion of wants. To touch her, caress her, to make her bleed. To fuck her rough and raw till she wept, and feel her coming undone on his cock, shuddering around him, her sobs in his ears. Jack watched her sense his stare. Golden eyes, as wild as any forest beast. Hunger, raw and pure in that golden gaze. A dark hunger for the harm he could do her. Madness. He'd been right before. She was dangerous. Damn him, if even knowing all this he still wanted her. He wanted her again, _now_.

"I'll try, Angela, but I'm making no promises." He couldn't answer her questions when he couldn't even give himself answers. "I suggest you be on our guard with her, Doctor Ziegler. His use of her title put him back to business mode instead of friend, "She's poison. Pure and simple."

Damn if he didn't have a taste for it.

He went out the way he came in. Not speaking to Widowmaker, the sear of her gaze conveying more than words ever could.

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

Amelie watched Jack go in silence. Words weren't needed. She could feel it coming off him in waves. Denial. Desire. In a way, surely as if she'd put a bullet to his head, she'd destroyed him. The irony was she hadn't intended any harm. She'd planned on being a good little sniper, amid the Overwatch lambs, their wolfspider in sheep's clothing. She couldn't have planned on Morrison's aggression. Couldn't have fathomed his passion. It was enough she could recognize it, as like knew like. She hadn't realized it at first, when he'd ordered her to strip. But from the first violent thrust of him, she'd know what he'd wanted. What he had really been asking for. She shouldn't have given it to him. She couldn't have not, even if she'd tried. His inner beast demanded a victim, and she was made to be broken. Broken and remade, as many times as it took.

Angela came back not long after the Overwatch Commander's departure. She had work to do, and Amelie could feel her unease. Jesse, for all his bad boy banter, was a boy scout at heart. Their fling was a thing of innocent frolic. Angela had been flustered, but not outraged… not… hurt?

"Angela… ?" she watched the medic pretend to work on something, refusing to look at the former Talon agent. "Is Jack… Do you have feelings for him?"

"Does that matter?" Angela's face was cooling impassive. It didn't suit her.

"You hold my leash, _mon ange,_ if this thing with Jack displeases you… You can _command_ me not to lay with him." She shivered. It didn't bear thinking about, that she would remind this woman of the power granted her by Amelie's switch of allegiance. What was she doing? Out of all the insipid sheep here, Jack might be the only one able to give her what she would need so desperately soon. What would she do then? If there was no one to hurt her the way she needed to be hurt?

"I can't take your free will away from you, Amelie. If you want someone to stop you from laying with Commander Morrison, it will have to be you." Angela's celestial blue eyes were serious. Amelie couldn't understand what statement she was trying to make, by refusing to use the obvious out.

"Stopping isn't something I'm good at, Dr. Ziegler." Amelie sighed, too tired now to play games, "Just ask Gerard."

To be continued.

Prisoner of Peace Part 2 Chapter 6

Chapter Summary

Angela Ziegler and Amelie LaCroix have words.

 **Prisoner of Peace**

 **Part 2 Chapter 6**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

Amelie was somewhat subdued as she followed Angela Ziegler through Overwatch hallways on their way back to the doctor's rooms. She studied the stiff line of the Swiss blonde's back. Angela was still holding in her anger, but it bled off of her like a wound. It seemed the good doctor might have special feelings for Jack Morrison. That could only end badly. Angela was beautiful, young, and vibrant, but what Jack needed in a bed companion was not in her nature. If anything, the doctor was a dominant soul, more one to take control.

A shiver ran through her at the memory of Angela pressing her down, the doctor's hands strong on Amelie's shoulders, the celestial fire of her blue eyes burning through the captured and restrained Talon agent. Angela's passionate outburst had called to the assassin's own passion. A shame Angela didn't have a cruel streak… or at least one she physically acted on. Amelie would bet money that Angela's cruelty found other, inventive ways of expressing itself.

Amelie wondered if she'd be sleeping on the floor come nightfall. Aside from that lushly expressive bed, none of Angela's furnishings were suitable for sleeping on. Ziegler was so upset now, Amelie doubted her new team mate and leader was going to want to snuggle with her. Not that Amelie was a snuggler, despite all the times waking up to Sombra wrapped around her like an octopus. A snoring octopus. Somehow the latina hacker had got it in her head that Widowmaker's one true purpose in life was to be a cool, full body pillow for the hot blooded Sombra.

The sniper had threatened to shoot the small, curvy hacker, but it went in one multi-pierced ear and right out the other. Amelie would have complained to someone, if she dared to bring any more scrutiny from Talon than absolutely necessary. Maybe that was what Sombra counted on to get away with her outrageous behavior. It wasn't like Sombra was molesting her, but Amelie wondered just what went through the hacker's sugar candy skull, other than the entire world was her personal cat toy.

Amelie considered sleeping with McCree, but discarded the idea as quickly as it occurred. She didn't want anyone, including McCree, to mistake them for a couple. That would be unfortunate for everyone involved. Yes, she'd enjoyed their physical frolic. She liked Jesse, more than she ever could have expected. He'd surprised her by being good company when not trying to pump hot lead into her. Now he wanted to pump _other_ things into her. Amelie kept the smirk she felt off her lips. Much as she liked Jesse, she didn't want him trying to stake a claim. She knew killing him would be as good as the sex. Better. She felt it there in her soul. Simmering beneath the physical lust, her kill hunger. For now sex was a reasonable substitute.

Much as killing Jesse would please her, Amelie knew she'd miss him after. Even if people thought her cold hearted because she didn't wear her grief openly. It hurt to kill people she liked. The sniper had mastered the art of keeping her pain in a separate part of herself while there was work to be done. She would grieve in her dreams, where Talon could not follow to steal away her tears. Amelie kept any melancholy feelings fiercely private. A single tear could land her in reconditioning despite her status as one of Talon's elite. Her's was a special case, of all the other Talon agents she was not her own person. She was a weapon. Property to be maintained at peak performance. Anything that interfered would be excised. Cut away. Including pieces of herself.

So she only showed satisfaction for her kills. When the kill bliss faded, well it did little good to wallow in sorrow. Like fear, grief was merely an obstacle you conquered lest it conquered you. She'd learned early to master her fear, her grief. People called her a monster because she did what she must. Amelie merely called it being a survivor and never looked back. She did try to avoid killing people she liked, or in general if she were off mission. From how people reacted, you would think she left indiscriminate piles of bodies in her wake. She wasn't as kill happy as that. All things considered, she killed rarely. She was a leashed hunting hound, mainly killing on command. Murder was her mission, but targets were carefully chosen by others, and she was sent out too infrequently for her taste. She did kill for herself, on very rare occasion, a few fiercely private and personal occasions. She was careful. Oh so very careful.

She knew it wasn't wise to engage Angela now. Amelie decided to push anyway. After all, only those who dared going too far would ever know how far they could truly go.

"Angela, I need to wash. I still have some of Jack and Jesse… on me." Amelie worded it as delicately as she could.

Both men had left their mark on her. In her. She swiveled her hips thoughtfully. It felt rather decadent to have the two Overwatch agents' seed mixed together inside of her. She'd teased Angela with the suggestion of having both men taking her together. A pretty fantasy she knew would never be. She doubted Jesse would be comfortable with how roughly Jack would treat her. How he would need to hurt her. Likewise Jack was so inherently dominant that she didn't see him as the type to share. Still. The thought of being pressed between both hard muscled males, shared between them, Amelie felt unfamiliar warmth flush through her.

Meanwhile what she'd alluded to finally penetrated the doctor's angry reserve. Her pale Swiss complexion was was warming to deepening shades of rose. The stain of color crept from her swan like neck to the crest of her high cheekbones. A blaze of rising blood. Amelie knew the other woman was thinking about them, Jake and Jesse, and Amelie caught between them. The Swiss woman's sensual nature was being teased by her own imagination. The natural sexuality Angela denied herself was as restless as Amelie's own. Unlike Ziegler, Amelie LaCroix didn't strangle her desires. That way led to folly. The doctor restrained herself to the point she pretended not to have them. It was no wonder it took so little to set her off.

Like now. Angela's clenched jaw looked painful, but the flash of celestial fire in her eyes was… lovely. Amelie felt a softness in herself that was unfamiliar. Part of her wanted to reach out and sooth the tightness in Angela's ridged back, stroke the clenched jaw till Angela relaxed and opened herself to…

"You can shower in our rooms." Angela bit out the words between the sharp gleam of her white teeth.

Amelie blinked, and briefly wondered how those teeth would feel, marking the tenderness of her bare blue skin.

"I'll need a change of clothes." she added, watching Angela's mouth with silent interest.

This time Angela replied more slowly, more thoughtfully. Her blue eyes assessing Amelie's attire as she spoke. "Yes. We need to get you more clothes. Perhaps something less… provocative."

Now it was Amelie's spine that stiffened. Inside, something was tight and pained.

"Why?"

Angela hummed a moment before speaking.

"People will assume certain things from how you dress, Amelie. Why provide a trigger for… unfortunate actions?"

No doubt to it. The doctor was clearly thinking of Morrison. Angela was blaming Jack's actions on Amelie, on how she dressed. _Merde._

"You think I'm asking for it." Amelie's voice had gone flat, her words clipped with her distaste. She was… disappointed. She knew Angela was a bit prudish, but it bothered her that the doctor would be that narrow minded. Amelie didn't normally care what others thought but Angela's comment pricked at something in the assassin's inner heart.

"Men will have their urges, Angela." She spoke softly, voice almost a low growl. "Regardless of what a woman wears, or doesn't wear. If I were stark naked or dressed as a nun, it's up to the individual person how they handle those urges. I was bare and bound, yet Jesse _chose_ not to take advantage of me. Because he saw me having sex with Jesse, Jack felt the urge to punish me. He acted on that urge. Not because of how I was dressed, but because he _chose_ to use his authority to have his way with me. We are not base animals. We are thinking creatures. Unless there are extreme, extenuating circumstance, we should own our own actions. I own mine. I allow men or women to have me either because I desire them, or because I'm showing my compliance to authority over me. I could chose to NOT comply, and accept the consequences. Our choices may be limited. They may be total crap. But they are own choices to make, none the less. So unless ordered otherwise, I will choose to wear whatever I like, and everyone else be damned."

Angela's blue eyes were wide as saucers at the former Talon agent's quiet, intense rant. She felt a surreal amazement to be lectured on free will by a woman who, by her calculations, had been conditioned by Talon into being the perfect, obedient assassin. She almost missed a critical piece of information in her shock.

"What do you mean. Jack used his authority to have his way with you?" Angela latched onto that comment grimly.

Amelie looked at the doctor with an arched brow. "What do you think I meant? I let him fuck me because he ordered me to. Oh, I won't say I didn't have my share of… pleasure, from the encounter. Now that door has been opened, it will no doubt be used again. I am not stupid, Angela. I did not seduce Jack, if that is what you thought. I know enough not to muddy the waters." She shrugged, "But it happened. Now, if Jack comes to me again, yes, I will part my thighs and take his cock however he likes it. If he wants to make it hurt, I'll take the pain and weep true tears for him. I'll take it as deep and hard as he drives it, and let him glory in my unfeigned screams."

Leaning closer to a seemingly stunned, silent Angela. Amelie spoke softly, her breath a silken caress in the doctor's ear. "I'll enjoy it. It will feed my darker needs like few things will. Jack fucking me will satisfy something very basic in me. I'm not a complicated person Angela, but Jack has woken up a particular hunger in me. I choose to feed my need, my hunger… with Jack. Unless… You order me not to."

Angela glared at the assassin as they finally reached her quarters. This wasn't a discussion for the public halls.

"I can't order you to sleep or not to sleep with someone!" Angela exploded once they were safely inside her rooms, slamming the door shut to accentuate her ire.

"Then offer me an acceptable substitute!" Amelie was trying to be reasonable. Ordinarily she'd be fine _not_ having sex with someone.

 _Merde_ , but between Jesse and Jack, she'd had more sex in one day than in any given year in Talon since Moira. Unfortunately Jack's special demands had kick started hungers that had lain dormant since the mad doctor and her modifications. All her seals seemed to have blown off. Jesse's rich, satisfying love making had been like a banquet to someone who'd survived on meager scraps for years. Jack's harshness had been the hard kick of potent liquor to an alcoholic. Since her modifications, she only had sex when performing a mission, or when servicing a superior officer. It had been infrequent, and provided her little personal satisfaction.

She'd been numb to it all. Even when she'd taken a rare lover to satisfy a feeling of restlessness, it was never more than mildly pleasant. In a matter of days… hours... Overwatch had ripped away the layers of insulation she'd carefully cocooned herself in over years while in Talon. Suddenly she was unprotected and faced with searing sensations and hungers she'd buried and thought dead...

Amelie spun away from Angela's frustrated cerulean gaze, nearly giving into the need to just scream. "You wanted me to exercise free will Angela. If you offer me someone else, someone who can give me what Morrison can… I'll choose the better of the two."

"I can't offer up other people like that!" Angela protested, trying not to sputter.

"Then don't offer _other_ people, Angela." Amelie's voice had dropped to a throaty low threat as she faced the doctor once more, her gold eyes almost glowing.

Wide blue eyes staring, Angela licked her lips, as if trying to moisten a mouth gone dry. "I don't… I don't know what you mean." she spoke faintly.

"Liar." Amelie stalked past the now silent doctor, headed for the shower.

to be continued.

Prisoner of Peace Part 2 Chapter 7

Chapter Summary

Where Amelie has some company. A little exposition.

 **Prisoner of Peace**

 **Part 2 Chapter 7**

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

McCree and Reinhardt returned from their debriefing together, Brigitte trailing behind. They apparently had stopped at their rooms first to change to more comfortable and relaxed clothes. Reinhardt was wearing a soft looking blue-grey flannel shirt and casual trousers. McCree had another sarape in a dark blue, otherwise he wore another set of the same clothes as before. He apparently had a look and kept to it, with variations of color. Brigitte was in casual sweats and a tool belt snugging in her waist It looked rather fetching, but that was mainly because the girl herself was so attractive, in the way of young healthy creatures.

Amelie was stretched sideways over an overstuffed chair, long legs draped over one plush arm, head resting on the other. One bare arm was across her eyes, the other lay limply down the front of the chair, her hand resting on the floor. Out of the small pile of clothes Angela had left her to change into after the shower, Amelie had chosen a panty and camisole set of pale champagne pink and ignored the rest. She was enjoying having her skin bare as possible, and she was pleased with the velvety nap of the chair she was resting on. Hard, strong sex had always made her very touch sensitive afterwards, the same way a good kill did. Moira had been kind in her own way. She'd left a sweet escape from her more normally sedated state.

Amelie had learned to make the most of slipping Talon's harness. She'd begun to push the limit on her ability to feel as soon as she learned she **_could_** push them. She also learned to disguise her ability to feel, selective though it was, least Talon decide to close off her little work around. But now she was with Overwatch and she could let her guard down just a fraction. After all, if Talon got ahold of her now, no amount of playing numb would keep her from either death or deep conditioning. Too deeply reconditioned, she might as well be dead, because whoever surfaced in her body afterwards would not be her.

She would be Amelie 3.0, or perhaps not even an Amelie at all. In the early days she'd been so many Amelies… even a few Danielles. All the little shattered shards of her past selves weeping from the torment, and crying futilely for rescue. Until she accepted rescue would never come, and she left behind the weakest parts of herself and let the newest Amelie be the rescue. So much agony fell away when she embraced the killer in her soul. All the fierce dedication she'd focused on being first ballerina, a creature of grace and beauty, she'd bent to becoming the perfect killer. And it had saved her. Damned her. Let her survive the way the weaker versions of herself would not. And she was yet a creature of grace and beauty. This Amelie could withstand punishment, could kill without crippling guilt. This Amelie could survive in Talon. Surely she could survive Overwatch.

Lazily she let her eyes drift over the other people in the room. Angela had escaped to her work, leaving Amelie alone in the rooms to rest. McCree had appreciation in his eyes and a grin on his face, while Reinhardt had a hint of pink to his cheeks just above his beard, but his good eye held laughter in a good humored way. The girl, Brigitte had a bit of blush as well, but her eyes were cooly assessing.

"Aren't you chilly in just your skivvies?!" Reinhardt exclaimed, his hands hovering as if he wanted to throw a blanket over her near nudity, but there wasn't one at hand.

Amelie rolled onto her side stretched languidly, beckoning the German over. Reinhardt went to her, sinking down to one knee to be head level with her.

"Thank you for lending me your undershirt. I'd have to come to Overwatch naked without your kindness." Impulsively she threw her arms around his massive shoulders and hugged him. She snuggled against him, drinking in the warmth of him.

"Uh… Ms. LaCroix… " he rumbled disconcerted. Reinhardt was blushing as Amelie pressed against him.

"You are so big and warm." she sighed and released him. "Sorry, I'm very tactile sensitive right now."

"If I didn't know better, I'd guess you'd just gotten lucky!" Jesse McCree chuckled, remembering how touch hungry Amelie had been after their passionate encounter in the Biotic Gun Range.

Amelie hummed under her breath, not sure how to answer. Angela's attitude towards Jack taking what he wanted from the former Talon sniper hadn't been positive. She was also sure that one didn't broadcast the sexual encounters with superiors here any more than in Talon. Oh, she'd been used in Talon, especially in the early years, before Moira had changed her. She was after all just rank and file then, with a pretty face, a pretty mouth, and convenient everything else. It had taken years of earning rank and expertise till it was she who could demand favors, and superiors took into consideration how very dangerous she was as well as pretty.

The command performances had fallen off dramatically after she'd been with Moira. The red haired doctor had shown her the uses of sensational rumor and dramatic spin. Her call sign Widowmaker, her intimidating attitude, the inhuman color of her blue skin and golden eyes. Moira had gifted Amelie with a gossamer armor of deadly implications against other Talon predators, and she'd been grateful. And when Moira herself preyed on her, Amelie had surrendered everything to her mad doctor willingly. Yet still… while Moira had exalted in Widowmaker's creation, she hadn't kept her. Amelie was a tool after all, her use relished, but ultimately released without a second thought...

"Amelie?!" McCree's exclamation brought her back to the point, "As I live and breath, we haven't been apart more than an hour or two! Who have you gone and tupped in that time!?"

His face was equal part shock, and good humored respect. It didn't even occur to him that Amelie wasn't a free agent to share herself with anyone she pleased. Theirs was a simple kinship of mutual attraction and a similar love of action. Something inside her breathed relief. Friends. Jesse McCree and she could simply be friends.

"I can't really talk about it." She answered him mildly, willing to keep what was between her and Jack on a need to know basis, and nobody else but Angela as her doctor really needed to know. "I'm not at liberty to say."

Jesse stilled at that. "You say that like it's work related."

His grin had turned to a frown, and Amelie wanted to bite her tongue. In Talon it would be a given, someone who ranked you had the privilege to take advantage. It wasn't a daily occurrence, but not so uncommon that everyone knew better than to poke into things that could end them up in a superior's bad graces.

Amelie looked Jesse in the eye and spoke as honestly as she could. "I can't talk about it Jesse. Let's just say Angela's already pissed at me, and I really don't want to deal with more of the same crap for just following orders."

She'd hoped that the simple explanation would pacify the cowboy. If anything Jesse McCree looked… grim.

"Orders? Someone ordered you to… have sex with them?"

This was not going right at all. She'd wanted to calm him down, not rile him up. Amelie was at a loss for how to explain something that was so simple a part of her existence that she'd never had to discuss it with anyone, to someone who clearly found it alien and… distasteful. They might as well be from different worlds.

"Don't be this way Jesse. It's not something I'm not used to in Talon. If a superior wants to have you… they have you. I mean, of course you could object, and accept the consequences. I don't know of anyone who has died for refusing. But I'm okay with it. It's not a big deal. In fact it was quite… satisfying for me. And I only needed the healing pack because of my kill switch."

"You needed a healing pack!?" McCree's grip on his gun tightened.

"You shot me with a biotic bullet after we had sex in the Biotic Firing Range!" Amelie countered, exasperated, "We probably did it a half dozen times right on the range floor, and we both were pumped with biotic bullets before we even started!"

"You both did what now?" Reinhardt was trying to follow the conversation, and ignore how the former Talon agent had gravitated back towards him and was hugging him absent mindedly as if he were a large teddy bear.

Brigitte was following the conversation with a better grip than her godfather.

"Overwatch officers do not demand sexual favors from subordinates." she interrupted, frowning.

"Hmm… " Amelie eyed the younger woman warily. So fresh faced, and innocent. Jack would never make the same demands on this girl, not the ones he'd hadn't hesitated to claim from a former Talon agent. This sweet girl had nothing in her to punish. Jack could torment Amelie till the end of days, and never balance the sin he saw in her.

"Yes. You are right, Brigitte." Amelie spoke mildly, not realizing she was plastering herself against Reinhardt. "No Overwatch officer will ever make such demands of you."

Brigitte frowned deeper. "Or anyone."

"As you like." Amelie spoke evenly, not wanting to argue the point. She saw no benefit in disillusioning the Swiss girl.

"Who was it?" Jesse wasn't letting it go. He wasn't an idealistic girl, and he'd seen worse things in Blackwatch, and knew that Overwatch had a darker underbelly than many wanted to admit to.

"No one. Nothing happened." Amelie pushed herself from Reinhardt, and strode to where Angela had left her a choice of clothing. It wasn't a great selection. They were still Angela's cast offs, and the blonde woman was both shorter than Amelie, and more busty, but with more slender hips than the former ballerina. As well, the doctor's taste in clothes and Amelie's was… different.

"I'm not letting this go." Jesse had followed her. Standing close his words were low, private. Reinhardt was pulling a mulish looking Brigitte, away, leaving the room and leaving McCree alone with Amelie.

"Don't play white knight, Jesse." Amelie spoke softly as he pressed against her from behind. Mentally she measured the feel of him against her, both of them somewhat clothed, and how it felt to have Jack's hardness against her bare derriere. Jesse was masculine in a way she deeply appreciated, but Jack… The old soldier was pure, potent domination in human form. Just pressed against her, she'd known Morrison would be relentless, ruthless…

Turning she placed her hands against Jesse's face, framing his concerned face as she kissed him, slowly. He took her mouth with his and deepened the kiss till something in her caught fire and she moaned against him, hands dropping to lower, harder parts of the cowboy.

"Angela won't be back for hours." she spoke between demanding kisses.

"Tell me who took you, sugar cube." Jesse's voice was cajoling as his own hands explored the silky camisole, cupping her flesh through the silky material.

"No. It's not important. Fuck me Jesse. Here. Now. We only need to be thinking of each other." Amelie ground her silky clad nether region to the hard bulge in Jesse's denim jeans.

"I just need a name, sugar plum." Jesse reached between them to play with the moistening material. Amelie let out a gasp that fed into a moan of need. She needed to remember something. Something important…

"Kill Switch!" she gasped, as Jesse's fingers slide past the silky panties and into her oh so ready tightness. Her thoughts were fragmenting as his fingers played inside her.

"Angela thinks my Kill Switch is tied to my agreeing to sex, or assassination. We need a healing pack for after. I'm sure Angela has some stashed in her room." Amelie managed to say as she rode Jesse's fingers, little mews of need escaping her as Jesse plunged his digits in strong and sure, knowing from their previous encounters just where to press and stroke to make Amelie shudder and cry with need. "Jesse… !"

"What?!" Jesse pulled away, leaving Amelie gasping, her head spinning from the change of his sensual stroking bringing her closer to **_le petite mort_** , to holding her at arms' length, his face grim, his eyes searching hers.

"My kill switch. For me sex and assassination are close to the same thing. Agreeing to one or the other outside of Talon's directive, is my kill switch. Even if we stop now, I've already committed myself, I'm going to need a healing pack." Amelie panted through her words, her breath feeling short, as if she were not getting enough air.

"Amelie?!" Jesse caught the dark haired woman as she went limp in his arms.

To be continued.

Part 2 Chapter 8

Chapter Summary

In which McCree expresses his concerns to his superior.

 **Prisoner of Peace**

 **Part 2 Chapter 8**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

It was becoming an unwelcome habit to wake up with the subaudible buzz of biotic healing humming through her system. Jesse must have gotten her to a healer quickly. She didn't feel as if much time had gone by, minutes at best. Strange, she was beginning to recognize the nuances of biotic healing events. This really couldn't be good for her, all these healings needed so constantly, so close together.

Jesse McCree's concerned face was the first thing she recognized once she could see straight. Jack's grim frown was the next thing she saw, as the older soldier was standing just beyond the cowboy. How deja vu...

"You can thank your lucky stars! Commander Morrison was practically at the door when I went to get help." Jesse exclaimed, his whole hearted relief was readily apparent, "His biotic field perked you up right away."

"I… see."

Amelie felt rather than saw the biotic field center planted near her head. McCree had laid her out on the floor before he'd left to get a healer. It must be the universe laughing at her that Jack was the first person McCree ran into. So Commander Morrison had biotic technology. Pity he hadn't had it with him earlier. Angela would never have been the wiser and Amelie's life would have been one string less tangled.

"Thank you, Commander Morrison." Amelie got to her feet with Jesse's assistance, voice poker player neutral a she assessed her situation, "I am… grateful you were nearby and able to come to my aid."

"I was bringing some biotic field generators for Angela." Jack's gruff explanation She mentioned that she was going to be running tests to get a baseline for your kill switch triggers. Depending on how the tests go, I thought having a range of biotic technology to fall back on might be beneficial."

Jack's voice was a softer growl than he'd used before. He seemed… sincere. Amelie looked from the Overwatch Commander to Jesse and saw only appreciation and gratitude in Jesse's face. Jack was more than a superior officer. They were friends. Jesse had genuine respect for the older Overwatch agent, he looked up to Jack.

"Morrison, can I speak to you a moment?" Jesse gestured for Jack to follow him out of Amelie's range of hearing. Sotte voice, Jesse spoke to his superior.

"Amelie won't tell me who, but I am sure someone took advantage of her. She says it's not uncommon if a superior… For people in Talon to demand sex from subordinates. I want to get her to open up, but she just won't let go of her Talon mindset. But, if someone took sexual advantage of her, I'm going to put a bullet where the sun don't shine."

Jack's face was neutral, his voice was a low rumble, "She's not talking? How do you even know she's had sex with someone here besides yourself?"

Jesse's eyes narrowed, "Look Morrison, I know you saw the security feed of us having some fun. Angela already let us know. So when I tell you I know when Amelie has had sex, I'm speaking as someone whose had the privilege of knowing her in the biblical way. When she's been with someone, she's like a kitten afterwards, all loose limbs and purrs, and as touch starved and anyone I've ever seen.

Whatever Talon did to her, it isolated her from basic, everyday human contact. She's built up her defenses into this ice queen persona, but there is a real, humanity starved soul in there, and she's crying out in her actions if not her words."

"Her actions are those of assassin, McCree." Jack reminded the cowboy, his growl as stern as steel. "She's not a bitty kitty. Amelie LaCroix is, if anything, a full grown man eater. A tigress can be beautiful, Jesse, but for all that beauty, she's still a seasoned killer. At the end of the hunt, it's you or her, McCree. That the writing on the wall."

"I don't believe that! Deep down, I don't think you believe it either Morrison." Jesse glared into the implacable steel blue gaze of the Overwatch Commander. "You were her friend. Before Talon took her, and hurt her so much that she became the killer you talk about. Look, I know you watching us… I know that must have been hard, Jack. I know she's a lot of different things to you, your friend Gerard's wife, his widow, his killer. But while she's all those things, she's also a beautiful, vulnerable woman, one who has suffered years of torment at the hands of Talon through no choice of her own. She doesn't deserve to suffer torment at the hands of Overwatch as well."

Jack's mouth was a grim line, and it was a long moment before he spoke.

"No, she doesn't deserve abuse at Overwatch. But I'd be careful before making accusations, McCree." Jack glanced over at Amelie who was hovering over the remains of the biotic field generator as if warming herself over the embers of a fire. He couldn't help but take in the barely there, champagne pink lingerie, the tousled black fall of her long, long hair, all that soft blue skin revealed. He could almost feel how that tender skin would take the mark of his teeth. He nearly choked on his next words, but he managed them anyway, "All she has to do is say no, and no one at Overwatch is going to push the point."

"You know there's more to this than simply saying no, Commander Morrison." Jesse growled under his breath.

"And what if she wants… What if she consents to relations? Are you her protector, McCree? Or a jealous rival for others who'd take a taste of our little honey pot?" Jack nodded to Amelie who was now watching the interaction between the two males with a steady, golden stare.

"I'm not a jealous soul," McCree spoke plainly, "I would not stand between Amelie and other lovers. I like her and all, but I'm not looking to get hitched, or even go steady right now. I just don't want to see some low bellied snake get away with something… wrong."

"... I'll keep that under advisement." Morrison replied after a moment of silence. "I'll just leave you two alone for now.

to be continued.

Part 2 Chapter 9

Chapter Summary

Amelie makes a sandwich

 **Prisoner of Peace**

 **Part 2 Chapter 9**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

Amelie knew that Jesse McCree wouldn't endanger her life, even if there were healing packs and biotic field generators available. Not for sex. She saw it in his boyscout eyes, even as they ran over her with mournful regret. She kissed him on the rough stubble of his cheek, and went to Angela's closet once more. She'd seen them in back, earlier that morning. She'd bypassed the ripped leggings because she'd wanted something more dressy, less grunge work out rags. Now she wanted grunge, and the more ripped and bleeding the better.

They might have been yoga pants, once. Knees worn out to little more than lycra webbing, and zig zagging snags that had gave them a scarred and used look. They were clean as any of the other, less worn looking clothes, but were probably meant for the rag bag when Angela finally thought of it. They were the color of her altered mood, streaked storm cloud grey. She found a grey sports bra that looked too small for Angela, but would be just snug enough for her smaller breasts, and a faded blue tank top. She took scissors from Angela's desk and cut the bottom half off, making it a rough crop top.

Ignoring Jesse she shimmied out of the camisole set and put on her makeshift work out clothes. No panties again. The leggings were like a second skin and wouldn't forgive anything between her flesh and the well stretched material. She was getting accustomed to going commando. She was barefoot, but didn't want to put the boots on for what she had in mind. Angela didn't have anything appropriate. The former Talon agent frowned, but finally settled on a pair of one size fits all footies. More sock than shoe, they'd do for the moment.

She took an elastic band from Angela's desk and pulled her hair back into a high pony. Better. That felt like herself again. She looked at herself in the mirror on the inside of Angela's closet door. She looked… well she looked unarmed. Anyone looking at her could tell she wasn't packing anything. Unless they knew enough to consider she WAS a weapon, she looked relatively harmless.

Jesse's drawn out groan drew her attention to the cowboy she'd dismissed from her thoughts.

"You are going to be the death of me."

Jesse had stood surprised and dumbstruck as she'd tended to her business as if there were no one else with her. Just because he wasn't going to have sex with her didn't mean he wasn't hurting for it. The sniper hid her smile and bent over so he'd have a proper view of her bottom in the thin stretched leggings. "Does this make my ass look too fat?"

Jesse whimpered. It looked round and delectable.

"I'll let you off the hook, cowboy." Amelie said as she straightened up again, stretching so she was on tip toes, before sliding up to the cowboy, "If you can take me someplace I can stretch out a little. I haven't had an opportunity or place to work the kinks out of my body since before Marrakesh."

Jesse tried not to think of the sniper's assets and focused on her face, "Well, we are a bit limited on facilities here, but there is a spot I can think of. The kids like to go there for dancing, indoor sports, what all. It's an unofficial gym/hangout."

"Kids?" Amelie arched an eyebrow.

"The youngsters. Hana, Luchio, Reinhardt's squire, that girl Brigitte. They wanted somewhere off the official grid to hang out and work off their excess energy. No one is likely to be using it now." McCree opined as his eyes lingered on the soft shine of Amelie's lips as they drew up in a subtle smile.

"Lead on, McCree." she said slipping her arm into his.

McCree brought her to a less used section of the base. The space was as large as a school gymnasium, roughly hewn walls, but an even, smooth paved floor, no windows, but against one wall was a permanent barre. It seemed less a part of a working Watchpoint than a factory or mining concern, as over head the vaulted ceiling was criss crossed with metal girders, perhaps meant for later infrastructure. On the wall opposite the barre was a catwalk area and what looked like entrances for storage spaces.

The lighting was bright, making up for the lack of a view with what appeared to be state of the art hard light projectors, the kind that theaters were now incorporating for both stage dressing and for constructing specialty venues for audiences. Amelie had no doubt the currently bare area could house hard light stadium seating if required, or project backdrops for theatrical productions. Despite it's primitive look, someone had laid out major money for those subtle upgrades. And the nice little fridge in a corner nook. Small card table with folding chairs, paper plates, plastic utensils. Someone liked to have their snack conveniently on hand. Good to know.

"I'll leave you here to exercise. You holler if you need anything."

McCree dragged her against the hard, warm strength of his body with a sudden urgency that caught her off guard, before kissing her long and deep. She could feel his readiness and it made her whimper as she pressed against him, wanting what he would not give her now. Breaking off the kiss, McCree rubbed his thumb against the softness of her cheek and looked into her want ridden gaze. His cheeky smile made her growl a little.

"Just keep that thought in mind, sugar cube. Once this kill switch business is done…" he let the words trail off and the hunger in his eyes speak for him.

The former Talon agent watched the cowboy leave with mixed feelings. Hunger for him. Frustration. Concern. McCree was getting attached. He was a magnificent lover. His death would be even more exquisite than Mondatta's assassination. She had to stop thinking before it got her in more trouble than she already was.

Amelie went through one of her normal stretching regimes. Letting her thoughts drift as her body fell into a physical routine she could do in her sleep. Normally she spent a few hours every day just stretching, keeping her muscle tissues limber and prepared. Then a few more hours in acrobatic exercises, and more hours target practicing, then weapon maintenance. Her days were far from empty, mission or no. She had practically zero social life, and she could only sleep so much. There were few things she could do that wouldn't raise flags from the constant surveillance Talon kept on her.

So she did what she could, and endured. Missions were always a sweet release. Now, in the Overwatch base, everything was almost painfully different. Their organizational mores were different, the expression of their desires were different. She'd carved out her high level niche in Talon, stark though it was. Here she was an unknown quantity, and no longer an elite in the organization's social structure. She wasn't even sure what her status was. Prisoner, guest, guinea pig, war prize, sexual plaything… regardless of all else, even here they could not ignore the one thing that was the essence of her being, **_killer._**

With so much space, and no Talon eyes on her, Amelie impulsively went through some tumbling exercises, just for the joy of moving her body as she wished. Slowly a feeling of exhilaration filled her. Eyeing the metal beams above, she sighed in regret that she had no grappling equipment. It would be nice to leave the ground and flit between high point to high point, seeking that perfect perch to take out her target. The high shadows above looked inviting. She left off tumbling and began a series of dance jumps and leaps. Even without her grappling gauntlet, she could still almost fly. She'd forgotten how much she loved leaving the ground behind, using only her own skill and body to defy gravity. The only thing missing to make the moment more perfect was music… and food.

Amelie gradually slowed her movements, allowed her breathing to become deep and even as she warmed down. Slowing to a graceful stop, she felt the beginning tremors of need, Amelie headed to the little refrigerator. She was starving. All the events, the healings, and her own metabolism had left her reserves stretched thin. Normally she had several small healthy meals through the day. More grazing than dining, but she was not wanting to deal with the commissary alone if she could avoid it. Here there were no handlers making sure she had a small protein or vitamin shake every few hours. No one to care or tend to herself for basic nutrition other than herself. She hoped there was something in the little fridge that would curb the hunger now clawing at her gut.

Amelie loved the combination of hot pepper jelly mixed with creamy peanut butter, mushed together between two warm mini waffles. She'd plundered the little fridge and was well pleased with the result. The jelly's sweet spiciness was delicious, little cuts of candied pepper shining like red and green jewels caught in nearly transparent amber, the peanut butter melted and runny, coated her fingers with a sticky sweetness and she licked them with concentrated care to not waste even a drop. The waffles were the store bought frozen kind, but she'd toasted them with the small kitchen appliance tucked on the card table along with a sadly empty coffee pot. A bottle of water pulled from the mini fridge quenched her thirst.

Normally the only time she went long times without food was on mission, and even then there was a limit. Once she hit her limit it wasn't pretty. People tended to die. She couldn't remember the last time her schedule had been so out of control. Sooner or later she'd have to work out going to the commissary and getting food on her own. Especially if things continued to go the way they had already. Who knew being literally screwed to death would burn up so much energy?

She sensed the stare first. Then she saw the sad, sad face of the Brazilian boy. The DJ, Lucio.

"That was the last jar of my gramgram's homemade jalapeno jelly."

His voice was tragedy. His eyes were huge shimmering pools of grief. Amelie stared at his trembling lower lip. He was so perfectly adorable, she could eat him up with a spoon.

"It was delicious?" She said around the last mouthful. She took some time to methodically lick the remains from around her mouth and off her fingers.

A big fat tear shimmered on Lucio's cheek. She sighed inside. She needed allies. Lucio was popular. One of the obscenely young Overwatch agents. She didn't want to alienatae him if she could help it.

"What can I do to make it up to you?"

Lucio was good with his hands. Amelie was moving in rhythm with his body, a faint sheen of sweat covered them both as their hips synched in a sensuous shimmy. He spun her around and drew her back so her hips snugged back into him. Her arms raised high above her head as his slid down her sides possessively. While she'd been a professional ballerina, Amelie was trained in almost all forms of dance to varying degrees. Lucio needing someone to practice tango with had been a surprise. He was going to be a guest on a show where they took famous music entertainers and partnered them with dancers in different genres.

Instead of his normal electronica pop, Lucio was letting a song written almost a hundred years ago thrum through his sound system.

"Roxanne… you don't have to put on that red light…"

El tango del Roxanne, the soaring and sexual version from the old classic Moulin Rouge, filled the makeshift gymnasium as she took Lucio through the choreography again. They'd been at it for hours, and she was feeling a familiar, welcome ache in her muscles. Latin ballroom was a far cry from the liquid pop and lock Lucio's music inspired. But the tango was a timeless interaction between bodies that made an art of seduction from every movement. They'd done various versions, moving to the music, practicing choreography, finding that feeling of rightness that made their bodies each an extension of the other.

Lucio actually had a great foundation in dance, he was cross trained in a lot dance genres. It shouldn't have surprised her that he'd thoroughly explored music and dance his whole life. It was who and what he was, at the very core. The expression of soul through sound and movement. She'd been just like him at that age. With him she was like that again. They moved. The music gave them a framework, their bodies flowed through it like water filling a glass, overflowing to pour uncontained through the openings of each beat…

The music ended abruptly, Amelie half collapsed onto the floor, the fallen woman, a victim of her own passionate nature, Lucio bent over her in a pose of hunger and pursuit. They held the pose for a long moment, letting their breathing steady in their lungs. Then Lucio dropped beside her, all loose limbs and satisfaction. He moaned in a pure expression of delight.

"That was… unreal. Oh man! I feel great"

"Like really good sex. You finish, and your bones are practically melted away, and all you are is flesh, aching from the motion, filled with satisfaction." Amelie agreed, enjoying the sensation.

"Am I interrupting something?!" A high pitched female voice demanded as Hana Song entered the room, glaring at them.

To be continued.

Part 2 Chapter 10

Chapter Summary

Amelie meets the younger side of Overwatch.

 **Prisoner of Peace**

 **Part 2 Chapter 10**

An Overwatch Fan Fiction

By Mooncatx _The Bliss Crimson_

 **Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker**

Amelie looked up at Hana Song. Up close out of her mech, the girl looked far too young for anything but video games and boys safely her own age. She was the type that men with a daddy fetish would enslave themselves to. Petite didn't begin to cover it. The little Korean girl made Tracer look like a hulking amazon. Amelie smirked. She'd been good all day. She deserved a little personal entertainment. Rolling over sideways, she was suddenly pinning a still panting Lucio.

"What a wonderful work out, Lucio. My body is completely… satisfied." she purred out, before planting a deeply passionate kiss on the surprised DJ.

Lucio had a nice mouth. Warm, soft, mobile lips that met hers with an expert's skill. Even surprised, Lucio gave as good as he got. The kiss was very enjoyable, far more than Amelie had been expecting.

Hana's jaw had dropped from the moment the lip lock began. When she could finally breathe again, the shriek that echoed through the gym was epic. As Amelie rolled to her feet, the small Korean launched at her like a missle!

"Hana!" Lucio shouted out, alarmed, "Stop!"

Amelie rolled with the impact and kept rolling so that Hana ended up under her. Pinning the mecha pilot's wrists to each side of her head, she saw the girl's mouth opening for another blood curdling screech, the sniper did the first thing she could think of to cut off Hana's scream. She kissed her.

At first, the smaller woman seemed stunned. Amelie began to pull away…

Then Hana was kissing back like it was a competition. Amelie felt the little mech pilot's intensity and knew it was all or nothing for the younger girl. Hana Song was one of those people who had to win or die trying. The sniper had already had her fun, no need to let it escalate, so Amelie let Hana gain the upper hand. She submitted to the mech pilot's driving need to dominate, letting the smaller, younger woman top her. She whimpered, signalling her submission, releasing the mech pilot's wrists and rocking backwards, trying to sit back. Hana followed, continuing to kiss the sniper with almost savage intensity, small hands grabbing Amelie's hair, pulling almost painfully, sending unexpected heat pulsing through her. Spiderwebs of electricity that traced pathways of excitement to Amelie's core. Then Lucio was pulling a panting, growling, wild eye'd Hana off of the now breathless and wide-eyed Amelie.

"Daaamn… I don't know if I should be freaked or ask when the wedding is." Lucio was holding the little mech pilot by her middle, who was now slumped forward like a sulky cat.

Amelie scooted backwards, still on the floor, still somewhat dazed by the intensity of Hana's aggressive passion. **_Dieu_**! Well Jack wasn't the only person in Overwatch who could dominate her if necessary. What were they feeding these people? She looked at Hana with a new wariness. Baby doms. What was the world coming to?

"What got into you Hana?" Lucio asked, giving Hana a little jostle, his arms still wrapped around her middle.

"Mine." Hana said looking away.

"What's yours, Hana?" Lucio asked confused, "Ms LaCroix?" You barely know her. That is NOT nice Hana Song! You can't _own_ people. You probably scared Amelie and she just got here today!"

"She ate Tracer's carrot cake!" Hana pouted.

It was both adorable and scary.

"Let her go, Lucio. I provoked her." Amelie said as she regained her feet.

"Cake thief!" Hana snapped as Lucio set her down gently.

Amelie translated. Cake = Lucio and Hana was giving her a hands off ultimatum.

"Cake is better when shared." the sniper said with a sly smirk.

Hana bounced in place not attacking but the look in her eyes was murder.

"I don't like to share!" the small Korean girl all but growled.

"Sometimes you don't have a choice." Amelie countered, "Sometimes it's shared cake or no cake at all."

"Man… you both are too much into cake. Listen, you both are probably just hungry. Let's go to the commissary together and we'll all have cake, okay? Or maybe pie?" Lucio reached out to take each of them by the hand, "No need to fight over sweets, there is plenty to go around."

The Brazilian DJ half led, half dragged them both to the hallway.

Amelie let herself be led. She was still hungry. The hours of dancing with Lucio had burned the energy from her waffle pbj, but at least she hadn't needed a healing pack.

Hana had calmed down by the time they reached the communal eating area.

"Tango? You were dancing together?"

"Yeah. What else do you think we were doing? With all our clothes on?" Lucio drawled with a snicker. "I'm good, but seducing the INFAMOUS Widomaker on the first day, good?! That games out of my league. Honestly Hana, she's beautiful, a great dancer, but I like my excitement in small bursts, if you catch my drift."

Hana Song was red as a tomato by the time they were going through the food line. Amelie watched with amusement as the small Korean girl almost blindly grabbed a strawberry soy milk, a small pork cutlet on a bed of plain rice and despite the talk of cake, a tapioca pudding.

The French sniper chose a few strips of beef cooked fajita style with onions and peppers, with a red beans and rice side, and some apple juice. For dessert she chose a light and fluffy whipped cream and fruit parfait that was interlaced with ladies fingers soaked in something that tasted of honey wine. She also took a small bowl of cheese cubes and crackers she planned on sneaking away as a snack for later.

Lucio had taken some cold cuts and cheese with a fruit salad and a ball of what appeared to be cooked chocolate.

"Brigadeiro." Lucio grabbed one for Hana and Amelie as well, "One of the best things from Brazil. Trust me, you will like these. One of the cooks is from Rocinha, a favela in Rio, and he makes food that will make you cry tears of joy. My gramgram, my mother's mother, she also lives in Rocinha. I stayed with her more than my time with either my mother or father combined."

"I am sorry about the jelly." Amelie apologized, "I was just so hungry. I'll get you a new peanut butter too, when I can."

"Oh, just the jelly was mine." Lucio dismissed the event, "And I'll write home to gramgrams. She makes her jelly once a year. Grams grows her own peppers. The jelly only goes to family. Her secret recipe. If we're lucky, we'll have more jars at Christmas. I have no clue who the peanut butter belongs to."

"You have to ask?" Hana sniffed, "It's **_peanut butter_** , duh!"

"Winston." Lucio and Hana spoke in synch as they looked at Amelie, who was dutifully tucking away her food.

"The monkey?" she asked around her mouthful of marinated onions and peppers.

"Shhhhh…!" Hana hushed her, "Gorillas are not monkeys! I think you can call him an ape. Calling him a monkey is racist"

"Speciest." Lucio corrected her as he nibbled his chocolate, enjoying the rich fudge like taste.

"Whatever." Hana shrugged, completely over her mad now, as if it had never occurred, "So, who are you sleeping with on Angela's team?"

"Hana!" Lucio's shocked face made the small Korean girl giggle.

"Just Jesse so far. I'm hoping to work my way through the others soon though." Amelie replied dead pan, "With luck, I'll have banged all of Overwatch in a month or two. Should I pencil you and Lucio in for sometime this week?"

It was worth it for Hana's spit take. Fortunately she'd only taken a small sip of her soy milk. Lucio manfully tried tried to cough out his reaction, having swallowed a bite of his chocolate down his air pipe.

Amelie continued to eat without missing a beat.

"You nailed McCree?!" Hana wheezed while trying to clean her mess with her napkin.

"Have the sex tape to prove it. Or, rather, Angela does. Did you know there are security cameras in the firing range rooms?" the sniper kept eating while Lucio face palmed and Hana began bouncing so quickly she nearly vibrated out of her chair

"You and McCree are **_together!_**?!"

"Now not so much," Amelie sighed with genuine saddness, "Angela says Talon put kill switches in me that are triggered by either agreeing to sex or having sex. Jesse isn't going to have sex with me now."

"TALON KILLS YOU FOR HAVING SEX?!" Hana shouted out, standing straight up and crushing her soy milk container in one hand, splattering droplets out in a wet burst.

Lucio studiously looked away muttering, "I don't know her. I just happened to be sitting here…"

The commisary had gone quiet as all eyes were arrowed in on Hana and Amelie. A beat of silence. Then everyone went about their business as usual. Apparently outbursts like this were not that uncommon. Or maybe it was just Hana.

"Ewwwwww…" Hana Song looked at the remains of her soy milk and her spattered, cute summer cami, "I just made this outfit!

... to be continued


End file.
